


CS Drabbles and Ficlets

by PhiraLovesLoki



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2019-09-07 13:58:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16855273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhiraLovesLoki/pseuds/PhiraLovesLoki
Summary: Assorted Captain Swan drabbles and ficlets I've moved over from Tumblr.





	1. CS Movie Drabble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lifeinahole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifeinahole/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CS movie drabble because I like thinking about what Hook must be thinking about when he sees Emma's wardrobe change.

His new attire was uncomfortable, but it  _was_  appropriate for the ball. He was loath to acknowledge when the Crocodile was being helpful, but it would be much easier to blend in now.

And then he made the mistake of looking at  _her._

She always looked beautiful to him, whether she was sweaty with unkempt hair, or dressed up for a night out. But now, in a blood red dress, with diamonds in her hair, she looked like royalty.

She  _was_  royalty. He kept forgetting. And he was a  _pirate._

At least for tonight, he could pretend he was worthy.


	2. Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian reflects on Emma's new title throughout the finale.

_Wife._

She was his  _wife_  now. He couldn’t stop beaming at her, as she smiled and twirled and glowed with happiness.

Captain Hook, a married man. Married to the Savior no less, but even so: married.

He recalled the days when he pined after this woman, wondering if she might ever see him as something more than just a pirate.

Only in his most wondrous dreams did he ever think she would be his wife.

* * *

_Wife._

He stared at the ring on his hand. Somehow, the curse had left it untouched.

A wedding band. His wedding band.

It had been real. No curse could take that from him.

But it could take something else from him: his wife.

* * *

_Wife._

Climbing the beanstalk without his wife was eerie.

Bloody hell, he’d been teasing her at the time, hoping to unsettle her enough to get her to reveal more information about herself. The more he understood her, the better he could use her.

You never forget your first. How little he’d realized how much that would come to mean.

Last he’d been here, she’d been a reluctant ally who had, hours earlier, been fully prepared to let him die at the hands of ogres.

Now, she was his wife.

* * *

_Wife._

He was about to see his wife die.

There had been a small glimmer of hope this whole time, that she could defeat prophecy and visions as surely as she’d defeated so much darkness before.

But not now. She’d tossed aside her sword. Gideon was going to run her through, while the rest of them just watched.

While he just watched.

Watched as someone killed his wife.

* * *

_Wife._

His wife lay in his arms, with her head on his chest. He stared down at her left hand, which rested on top of his right; they’d found her rings in the little ring dish in the bathroom, much to her relief.

He was lying in bed with his wife. He chuckled weakly.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re my wife.”

She laughed gently. “Yeah, I know. And you’re my husband.”

He smiled.

_Husband._


	3. Flufflet 1: Wedding Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flufflet #1 for lifeinahole - after the wedding reception

Emma had initially been opposed to having a redo wedding reception, but once it became clear that the whole town viewed it as the opportunity to have a really baller victory party, there was very little she could do to argue against it. 

So everyone all got dressed up again, went back to the rooftop, and enjoyed the wedding reception that  _should_  have happened a week earlier. And Emma had to admit, it was kind of a  _blast_ , eating, drinking, laughing, and dancing the whole night.

Her feet were killing her as they pulled up to the house once the party ended. Snow and Regina had both objected pretty vehemently to Emma being the one to drive, but Killian was still learning how to drive stick, so what else were they supposed to do? Besides, they  _had_  to drive home; Henry had decorated the Bug with streamers and cans and a “Just Married (Last Week)” sign.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Killian said as they climbed up the front steps.

“What?”

“Let’s do this properly.” He reached down and lifted her up in a bridal carry.

“Killian, we  _did_  this already.” They had; right after the final battle, he’d carried her over the threshold, insisting that this was going to be their wedding night, come hell or high water.

“Well, now we’re doing it  _again._  Don’t argue with me.” And over the threshold they went.

“I need something to drink,” she said, before he could carry her up the stairs. “Come on, we’ll do the whole wedding night thing, I just want some time to breathe, okay?” God, how did couples go  _right_  to wedding night sex after their wedding receptions? All she wanted to do right now was sit and watch TV. Was that normal?

He set her down and wandered into the living room while she busied herself in the kitchen. “Want anything?”

“Perhaps some water–with a little lemon juice in it.”

“Oh, good idea.” She grabbed and extra glass and grabbed the bottle of lemon juice from the fridge. Killian hated it, preferring to use real lemons all the time, but she liked the convenience.

He was smiling at her, almost like he was dazed, as she sat down beside him and handed him his glass. He took a quick gulp and then settled his left arm around her. “I had a lovely time tonight.”

“Me, too.” Mmm, yeah, the lemon had been a good idea. “I’m just glad Gold didn’t kill you on the spot when you offered to shake his hand. Did you hit your head or something?”

“Inviting him and Belle was  _your_  idea.”

“Yeah, because Belle’s one of your close friends. We  _had_  to invite Gold because we invited her.”

He snorted. “Are you truly upset that I’m trying to put the past behind me and make peace with him?”

“No, just … I’m surprised, I guess. I just thought maybe you’d settle for not murdering each other.”

“He’s a father again, and he’s trying to make things work with Belle. I suppose the best way to keep him from relapsing is to ensure he has the same safety net that I have.”

“Noble.” She sipped her water.

“I try.” She let out a long sigh without thinking. “Something wrong?”

“No, just … I’m glad we got to have our wedding. I didn’t get to really appreciate just how fantastic you look in that tux.”

He grinned. “Aye, and now I can tell you just how beautiful you are in your gown. You look like a swan.”

“No,” she said, her face hot.

“Well, perhaps more so when you wore your veil.” She’d taken it off halfway through the night, and if she was being honest, she had no idea where it went. Oops. “But I stand by my comment.”

“Swans are vicious,” she reminded him.

“And elegant.” He gave her a strange look. “Those earrings look familiar.”

She blushed. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Where have I seen them before?”

“Our first date.”

The look of wonder on his face was enough to make her want to melt. “Really?” She nodded. “Well, they’re lovely.”

“And that date was lovely,” she said. “Your own issues aside.”

“Oy, I think I’ve suffered enough for that one.”

They sat quietly for a bit as they sipped their water. When he finished his, he set it down on the coffee table (on a coaster of course), and took her free hand in his. “I can’t believe we’re married.”

“We’ve been married for a week,” she reminded him. She began to toy with his rings.

“Aye, and in a week, I’ll still wake up and think about how strange it is that we’re married.”

“Bad strange?”

“Never.”

“I know what you mean.” She still felt almost giddy that she had a  _husband._

She wished little kid Emma could see this–that she’d grow up to be a literal princess who was married to the hottest man to ever walk the earth. Hell, she wished twenty-eight-year-old Emma Swan could see this; it would have been way more mind-blowing than the son she gave up for adoption showing up to tell her fairy tales were real. Or at least equally unbelievable.

Something felt different. “Whoa.”

“What?”

“Your rings.”

“Well, I had to remove it to wear my wedding ring.”

“No, I know. I meant the other two.”

“What about them?”

“They’re different.”

“Aye. Swan, you’re very astute.”

“Killian,” she said firmly. “We’ve known each other for a long time now, and you’ve always worn the same three rings. What gives?”

He sighed. “I’ll never entirely be free of my past,” he said quietly. “I can’t erase the harm I’ve done, the people I’ve killed, the destruction I’ve caused. But I want our future together to be a happy one. I want to spend my days building something with you, with our family. It’s why I’m trying to make peace with the Crocodile.”

“If you’re trying to make peace with him, you might want to stop calling him that,” she interjected. He glared at her. “Sorry.”

“As I was saying, my darling wife.” His irritation was fond, at least. “Those rings were always reminders of the man I was. For a long time, I assumed I would always wear them, as a way of never letting myself forget to stay on the right path. But I had to part with one of them so I could wear my wedding ring, and it made me realize …” He took a deep breath. “My ring symbolizes all that now. I look at it, and I think of you and our life together. I don’t need the other reminders anymore. And so I decided it was time to find some new rings.”

“I think that’s great.” She lifted his hand up and kissed each ring, ending on the wedding band. She loved seeing it on his hand; she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of it. “I do like the new rings a lot.”

“I’m glad. Your family helped pick them out.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, mostly your mother and Regina,” he admitted. “But your father and Henry approved the final choices.”

She looked down at his hand again. She’d grown so familiar with his old rings that the new ones had felt all wrong. But now? They weren’t wrong anymore.

God, she loved him too much. And now he was her husband.

“Killian?”

“Aye?”

“Let’s go have our wedding night.”


	4. Flufflet 2: IKEA trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flufflet #2 for lifeinahole - furniture shopping

“What?” Emma asked, pouting slightly. “I like it.”

“I didn’t say I  _disliked_  it,” Killian said quickly. “Just that it’s a tad … out of place alongside the arm chair.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then maybe we shouldn’t get the arm chair.”

“But you said you  _liked_  the arm chair.”

“I said it was  _okay,_  but it’s … I mean, you obviously really like it.”

“So you  _don’t_  like it.”

“You guys clearly haven’t seen that 30 Rock episode, have you?” Henry asked. He was lying down on the couch they were arguing over. They both glared at him; he  _knew_  they were only one season in. “Okay, wrong thing to say.”

Emma sighed. They were getting nowhere with this. “Look, I don’t dislike the arm chair, and I’m fine getting it. But I like this couch. Do they have to match?”

“I’d like them to,” he said. “Swan, this is our  _home_  together. I want it to feel like home to both of us.” He took her hand. “I don’t want to fight over this, love.”

“I don’t either,” she grumbled. “But I really like this couch.”

“I can solve this problem,” Henry interrupted. “I mean, whenever the two of you are ready to admit that you’re stuck.”

“You know, I can ground you,” Emma reminded him.

“But you won’t. After this, you’ll probably raise my allowance.”

“Regina’s in charge of that, kid.”

“Still.”

“All right, lad,” Killian said. “Solve this problem, then. Go on.”

Henry smirked and swung his legs around, sitting up. “Okay. Pick that couch over there.” He pointed to a fluffy-looking sectional. “And that chair.” And then to a recliner. “Hook, the chair you like is cool but it’s not part of a collection, so it doesn’t really match anything. The only couch it even comes close to matching is there.” He pointed. “And neither me or Mom is gonna be okay with  _that_  one. So if you want an arm chair that matches a couch we’re actually gonna buy, you can’t get that one. But this one,” and he pointed at the reclined he’d chosen, “is pretty similar and matches a lot more stuff.”

“As for the couch,” he continued, “Mom, this couch honestly isn’t all that great. The arm rests are way too low and the whole couch looks like it’s straight out of Minecraft. The one I’m suggesting is more comfortable and less blocky. Plus, Killian probably likes the clean lines, and it’s one of the best matches to the arm chair I just told you to get.”

They both looked at the furniture in question. Then at Henry. Then the furniture. Then each other.

“I’m not raising your allowance,” Emma said firmly before going to write down the product numbers.


	5. Flufflet 3: The Song in Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flufflet #3 for lifeinahole - everyone finds out about the singing spell from The Song in Your Heart

“I can’t believe we  _forgot_  all this,” Snow said, almost whispering.

“It was necessary,” Blue said, like  _that_  explained everything, which it didn’t. But this was Blue, so it was about as good of an explanation as anyone was ever going to get.

“Yeah, well, it was a memory I could have done without,” Regina said, as though she had a bad taste in her mouth. “Me, singing and dancing like some kind of …”

"Don’t say it,” David warned.

“Disney character,” Henry finished. “I wish I could have seen it and heard it. All I have is the page here.”

“Look,” Emma said. “What matters is that all of your songs–the happy ones, the sad ones, the angry ones–all of them, that’s what I needed to keep the Black Fairy from crushing my heart. So even if you’re embarrassed now, I’m grateful.”

Snow and David smiled almost beatifically, and Regina sighed. Zelena shrugged. “I’ve nothing to be embarrassed about; I sounded fantastic.”

“Better than me?” David challenged.

“I think the Rabbit Hole does karaoke,” Snow said. “If we want to find out.”

Emma snickered at the thought of her dad and Zelena going head to head in a karaoke competition. Killian, though, was uncharacteristically silent.

Actually, he’d been quiet the whole time. She turned to look at him, but he refused to meet her gaze, staring at Blue instead. Weird.

* * *

“So, what’s wrong?” she asked as she plopped down on the bed and watched as he finished pulling on his pajamas.

“What’s that, love?”

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird since Blue gave you guys your … musical memories back. Why?” She paused. “Was your song embarrassing or something?”

“No.”

“Well, I  _know_  you can’t be insecure about your singing voice. You already know I think you’ve got a sexy one.”

He chuckled. “No.”

“Well,  _what_  then? And  _don’t_  tell me you’re not upset because we both know you are.”

He sighed as he climbed into bed and pulled her into his arms. “All right, but it’s … odd, I suppose.”

“I’m the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and I’m married to Captain Hook. My closest friends are the Evil Queen, and her sister, the Wicked Witch, and Belle from Beauty and the Beast. I  _think_  I’m good with odd.”

“Not sure it’s the same variety of odd, love, but fair enough.”

“Just tell me.”

“I’m  _trying_  to.” He paused. “You recall your parents and Regina discussing their musical tete-a-tete?”

“Yeah.” God, she would have paid  _so much money_  to see that.

“They showed up at the tavern I was drinking at, offered me all the gold and jewels I wanted, and asked for me to take them to Regina. I refused their payment, insisting the only thing that would satisfy me would be my revenge.”

“And by  _insisting,_ I’m assuming …”

“Aye, I may have insisted rather musically,” he admitted.

“So you’re upset because you refused?”

“No, I agreed,” he said. “They realized I wanted revenge on the Dark One and told me they had him prisoner. We struck a deal, and I brought them to Regina as requested.”

“Okay.” Was he upset that her parents had almost been complicit in him murdering Gold? That he’d brought them to Regina like they’d asked? “I don’t get what’s wrong,” she admitted.

“I–” He took a deep breath. “It’s just so  _strange.”_

“Killian–”

“Emma, you were  _there.”_

“I–what? No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you  _were.”_

Oh.  _Oh._

“So you’re upset because you bumped into my mom when she was pregnant with me?”

“I’m not  _upset,”_  he corrected. “It’s just odd, isn’t it? Here I am, singing about how all I care about is revenge, and my unborn wife is right there.”

She couldn’t help it. She wished she could have, with her husband sitting next to her, clearly struggling with the whole scenario. She should have been supportive and understanding.

But she couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.

“Oi, this isn’t funny, Swan.” The giggles would  _not_  stop. “Swan, please, you can’t tell me you don’t find this at least  _slightly_  strange!”

“Oh come on,” she said, trying to regain her breath. “Killian, you’re, like, three hundred years older than I am and that hasn’t mattered to either of us.”

“But this is different!”

“Not  _that_  different.” She burst out laughing again. “Oh my god, you, like … practically serenaded me while I was in the womb!”

“It wasn’t a serenade, and I wasn’t–love, you  _must_  stop laughing.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry!” But she couldn’t.

He sighed angrily and moved away, turning to shut off the lamp on his nightstand. “Well, good night, then.”

“Killian, come on.” Okay, it was less funny now. Still funny, obviously, but with how upset he was getting, she needed to cut it out. “Look, it’s really not that weird.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Will it be weird when I get pregnant to sing to our unborn kid?” He didn’t answer. “Because that’s a normal thing, you know? And then they come out and grow up into adults, and you don’t sit there feeling weird that you used to sing to them before they were born.”

Not that she’d had any experience in that area. Even if she hadn’t had a cellmate in juvie, she probably wouldn’t have tried singing to her baby bump. But that had been a different situation; if Neal hadn’t given her up, and they’d stayed together, the two of them would definitely have done it.

“I know that’s different,” she said, when Killian didn’t respond. At least her giggles had subsided. “Because it’s your kid and not your future spouse. But still, it’s really not that weird.”

“No, that’s not it.” His voice was tentative, like he was unsure of what he was about to say. “Just … when you get pregnant?”

She froze. She’d made offhanded references to hypothetical siblings for Henry, but at no point had she explicitly told Hook that she wanted more kids. And now it had just kind of slipped out, and not in a way that she would have wanted to put it when she eventually brought it up.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I know we haven’t talked about it. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“No, no.” And now his arms were around her again. “You want more children, Emma?”

“I mean … yeah, I do. I guess we should have talked about it before we got married and stuff.”

“Because you believe that I’m not interested in having children with you?”

“I didn’t say that,” she pointed out. “Just, you’ve told me that Milah never wanted more kids and you were fine with that.”

“I loved Milah deeply,” he said. “I knew that being with her meant that my only experience as a father would be if we went back for Baelfire, and I was willing to accept that life. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want children of my own.”

“Oh.”

His arms tightened around her. “Swan, I would love to have children with you. More than anything.”

“Oh?” Her heart beat faster.

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay, but you have to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“You’ve  _got_  to sing that song for me.”


	6. Flufflet 4: Neverland reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flufflet #4 for lifeinahole - a little heart to heart in Neverland

Killian found it awkward sitting around the campfire with the prince and princess. Snow White had very clearly not forgiven her husband for hiding his fatal condition, and to avoid talking to David, she kept trying to talk to  _him_.

Meanwhile, Killian was distracted. Swan was also still angry at her father for his secret,  _and_  at both himself and Neal for what happened at Dark Hollow. She’d stormed off after they’d made camp for the night, saying something about needing fresh air, and to his dismay, Neal had followed.

Not that Neal was that much competition, if Killian was being honest. It wasn’t Neal whom Swan had kissed. It wasn’t Neal who’d promised to win her heart while she stared in hopeful wonder. And it wasn’t Neal whose name she called out in terror when they were both being torn asunder by shadows.

All the same, though, he was not happy at the thought of them alone together.

Fortunately, not five minutes later, Neal returned, looking quite disgruntled before announcing he was going to sleep.

But Swan did not return. Eventually, Snow White declared that she was going to bed as well. David looked around camp. “Emma’s not back yet.”

“I’ll go find her,” Killian volunteered.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll go.”

“No, I insist.” Killian threw a meaningful look towards Snow, who had her back towards him. David caught the glance and his shoulders sagged. But he nodded; better to let someone else retrieve Emma while he tried to mend things with his wife.

Swan wasn’t far from camp; he only had to walk for a minute or so to find her sitting on the ground, back against a massive fallen tree. “What do you want?” she asked sullenly.

“We’re retiring for the night.” She shot him an amused glance, as it has been night since they’d arrived days ago. “You know what I mean. Your parents sent me to make sure you were all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“You  _sound_  fine.”

“Well, I am.” She shivered. Of course she was shivering; her arms were bare and the material of her shirt was incredibly thin.

He pulled off his coat and held it out to her. She stared at it for a moment before sighing and reaching up for it. As she wrapped herself in it, he wondered, briefly, how much it would smell like her when she returned it.

“You can sit with me, I guess,” she said when he didn’t move.

“How could I refuse such an offer?” The ground was cold and hard, and he wished that he still had his coat to sit on. But better to have her be warm than to have his arse be cushioned.

They sat together for some time, staring at the jungle in front of them. He couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant; by this point in time, she’d clearly already sent Neal back to camp, and judging from his mood and expression upon his return, whatever she’d said to him had left him unhappy.

“What if we fail?” Her voice was so small and sad. It hurt to hear.

“We won’t.  _You_  won’t.”

“I have before.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.” She snorted derisively. “I mean it, Swan. You recall how we met, don’t you? You saw through me. You got the compass. You defeated Cora and got back to Storybrooke. You stopped me from killing the bloody Crocodile. You saw through Greg and Tamara. You found a way to save Regina  _and_  your town. I find it hard to believe you won’t succeed here as well.”

“You know, a lot of what you just listed involves you being a villain.”

“I know. But my point still stands. When have you ever failed?”

She sighed. “I lied to Henry.”

He frowned. “When?”

“About Neal. This was a while ago, when I first came to Storybrooke. He just …” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “He just was  _so_  interested, and I didn’t want him to know. So I told him his dad was this firefighter who died heroically.”

He wasn’t sure what a firefighter was, but he understood the sentiment. “I knew Neal when he was young,” he said. “I always assumed he would make a fine young man. To be honest, I’m struggling to comprehend that he could have hurt you so much.”

“He said he loved me,” she said quietly. “That we were going to have a life together, a  _home._  And then he left me behind, and I ended up in prison.”

He wanted to ask why–why had Neal left her? Why had that resulted in prison time for Emma? But if she wanted to explain, she would have. What mattered was that Neal had left. And she hadn’t deserved that.

But more than that: “You did not fail when you lied to Henry.”

“You didn’t see how upset he was.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t upset. You were trying to protect him; you had no reason to think that you would ever see Neal again, or,” he said wryly, “that he would end up being the son of Rumplestiltskin.” She chuckled, and he smiled, pleased he was able to elicit that reaction from her. “What I’m trying to say is that Henry obviously forgives you, and someday he’ll understand why you lied. Given the many ways in which parents can and do fail their children, this hardly registers.”

“Well, thanks.” She shivered again.

“You’re still cold?”

“A little.”

His heart sped up a bit. “May I?”

“May you what?”

 _May I wrap my arms around you and pretend that the gesture is romantic instead of platonic?_  wasn’t something he was sure would be well-received were he to voice it aloud, and so he settled on action.

Swan stiffened as his arm settled around her, but she didn’t speak. His heart continued to hammer in his chest; it was impossible to think that she could not hear it. He wished now that he hadn’t given her his coat, so that his hand could touch her bare arm instead of cool leather, or even that the coat could be gone entirely so that he could feel the heat of her as their sides pressed together.

Gradually, though, she relaxed, and while he waited for verbal protestation or a snide remark, neither came. Instead: “So we’re gonna win?”

He smiled. “Aye.”


	7. Flufflet 5: Song smutlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flufflet #5 for lifeinahole - a little singing gets a little smutty (this flufflet is a little bit smutty)
> 
> Continuation of flufflet #3

“You’re humming, babe,” Emma said as she pulled on her pajamas.

The humming in the bathroom stopped. “Hmm?”

“You hum when you get ready for bed. Did you know that?”

“Is it irritating?”

“No,” she said, after a pause. It  _wasn’t_  in general. It was a cute quirk most of the time. Just …

“That wasn’t your most convincing ‘no,’“ Killian said.

“Just get ready for bed.” She quickly tossed her dirty clothes into the hamper before crawling under the covers and grabbing her book from the nightstand.

The humming in the bathroom resumed before stopping. It happened a few more times as she listened to him finish his nightly routine (washing his face, applying moisturizer–it was weird having a male partner as into his own skincare routine as she was into hers–and brushing his teeth), like he was doing it without thinking and then stopping out of insecurity.

Finally, he emerged, and the humming stopped entirely as he undressed and pulled on his own pajamas. “Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“The humming.”

“I said no.”

“You  _said_  no, but you seemed a little annoyed.”

“I’m not annoyed with the humming.”

“Swan.”

“I just couldn’t recognize  _what_  you were humming,” she admitted. She’d been trying to figure it out, but it didn’t sound like anything she knew.

“Just something I can’t get out of my head tonight.”

“What is it? Drinking song or something?”

He blushed as he got into bed. “No.”

Ooh, this was interesting. “Come on, what? What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Killian Bartholomew Jones.”

“Swan, I don’t have a middle name.”

“Killian Ignatius Jones.”

“It’stheoneIsangthatIforgot,” he said, so quickly that she almost didn’t understand.

“Wait, the one you sang to my parents about revenge?” He nodded. “I wanna hear it.”

He laughed. “You want me to sing to you about my revenge?” It was her turn to nod. “What, now?”

“Why not now? It’s not that late.”

His blush deepened. “I don’t know.”

“Come on.” She put her book back on the nightstand and leaned in to kiss him. “Sing to me, husband.”

He sighed, but then–

_“My dear prince and princess, your offer is meaningless–don’t give a damn ‘bout your rank.”_

There was a giggle that threatening to spill out. She didn’t know  _why,_ since she  _wanted_  him to sing, but if she let it escape, he’d stop. So she made sure to keep her breathing even. No laughing.

_“The gold in your sack, well, it isn’t worth jack. I should make you fools go walk the plank.”_

Oh man, she would have loved to see David and Snow’s faces at  _that_  line.

_“Your riches would fill other pirates with glee, but none of those pirates are me.”_

She could feel the chorus coming on, and her heart rate picked up.

_“Sing a yo ho, keep your jewels divine, yo ho, and your manners refined, ‘cause even more precious than rum in a stein is revenge, revenge, revenge, and it’s gonna be mine.”_

Oh god, she forgot how much she loved his singing voice. Her heart was racing for a different reason now. And instead of looking insecure, he looked like he knew  _exactly_  what his voice was doing to her.

He kept singing, but as soon as he said the word “plunder,” she kind of lost it, interrupting him by planting her lips on hers. He pulled away with a chuckle. “And you were so  _eager_  to hear the song.”

“It’s not my fault you’re sexy when you sing.”

“Nor mine; I’m obviously blessed.”

“Just get a damn condom and fuck me.”

“My pleasure.”

She was pulling off her pajamas and throwing them onto the floor when he came back from the bathroom empty handed, a strange look on his face. “What is it? Are we out of condoms?” She’d  _just_  picked more up from the store. Granted, they’d been fucking like horny teenagers since the wedding, so it was totally possible they’d run out already.

“No, just …” He nervously scratched his ear. “Do you recall our conversation the last time we talked about this song?”

She thought back. Everyone had gotten their musical memories back, and he’d been weird about it, so they’d talked and it had been because she’d been there, in the womb, when he’d been singing, and then she’d reassured him, and then they’d talked about–

“Oh. Yeah.”  _Kids._

"I’m not saying tonight,” he said quickly. “But …”

Were they ready? They’d only been married for six months. But then again, the thought of having kids with Killian had been stuck in her mind ever since she’d watched him play with Alexandra, way back when she was still struggling with her fate as the Savior.

The memory pulled at her. She remembered with so much clarity just how much, in that moment, she had wanted it.

And there was the other nagging feeling, the one she had every time she watched her parents with her brother: how badly she wanted a second go, to raise a kid from the beginning.

It might take a while to get pregnant anyway. Even if she was ovulating. Wait, was she? She grabbed her phone, and Killian’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Her heart fluttered as she looked at the calendar in her period tracking app. She was due to ovulate in a few days, and today was one of several marked with a little dot to indicate fertility.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yeah.”

He stripped down faster than she’d ever seen him before, even the time when they literally had five minutes before Henry was due home, and before she could make a bad joke, he was in bed–on top of her–inside her–oh god, she forgot how much better it was without a condom–

Something about the situation, that they were  _trying to get pregnant,_ heightened the sensations, made them more meaningful, more important, more memorable. And when he came, shortly after she did, she felt weirdly triumphant and satisfied in a way she never had before.

Killian kissed her deeply before rolling off to the side. “You okay?”

He chuckled. “Aye, I’m–that was different.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

It was her turn to chuckle. “Me neither.”

He turned back towards her and caressed her arm. “There’s another reason I didn’t want to sing that for you.”

Oh, right, the song that had gotten them into this situation. “What’s that?”

“I sang about how all I cared about was revenge. How my heart had hardened and filled with hate, how my life and happiness had been destroyed. And yet here I am, heart full of love, happier than I ever thought I could be, and the bloody Crocodile and I are seeing each other socially on Thursday because our wives set up a double date.”

“Uh,  _no,”_  she corrected. “You’re seeing each other on Thursday because  _you_  and his wife wanted to have dinner, and it just so happens that spouses like to do stuff together.”

“My point still stands.”

“Fair enough.” She leaned in for another kiss. “Well, you’ll just have to sing something else to our baby when I’m pregnant.”

“Fair enough.”


	8. Flufflet 6: Baby bump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flufflet #6 for lifeinahole - singing to the baby bump
> 
> Continuation of flufflets #3 and #5

There were almost too many resources, Killian thought, as he typed in another phrase to look up. There were the doctors and nurses at the clinic Swan insisted on going to; it was out of town, since she refused to permit Whale to, as she put it so eloquently, “go anywhere near my goddamn vagina.”

There were the books, both the old ones in the library and the newer ones that Emma purchased through the post. He read all of them, although he did think Emma had the right idea with the newer ones; perhaps after the baby was born, they could donate the books to the library.

And then, of course, there was the Google. It was a double-edged sword if he’d ever seen one, with more information than he’d ever thought could possibly exist. But it seemed nigh impossible to determine just which information was accurate, and all of the personal testimonials made everything even murkier.

“What are you looking up?” Swan asked from the couch.

“When the baby can hear,” he said. “I’m getting too many different answers.”

“Yeah?”

“Some Google tells me–”

“Some websites, Killian.”

“Well, some tell me that it could be as early as eighteen weeks, and some say as late as twenty-four.”

“Okay.”

“Do you know which is correct?”

“No. Why, though?”

“Well … just that if she can hear us, then maybe we should take advantage of that.”

He loved that he could say that:  _she._  It was only a week ago that they’d gone to the clinic, and the doctor had told them that they were having a daughter. It was nearly mind-boggling that the technology of the realm made it possible to know so much about an unborn child.

Hell, it was incredible just how much there was to know about a pregnancy in general. In the Enchanted Forest, a single missed monthly cycle was troubling but not necessarily an indication of pregnancy; it was typically only a second skipped cycle that tipped a woman off. But here? Here, Emma simply waited until her cycle was a day or two late, and then she (he still felt uncomfortable about this) urinated on a strange stick, and it informed them both that she was with child.

And he’d  _seen_  their child. The near-magic of the ultrasound machine meant that they both had been able to watch their daughter grow from a tiny little bean-shaped smudge into something resembling an actual human. And now, they knew they were having a beautiful baby girl.

His daughter. He was going to have a daughter.

“Killian, did you hear anything I just said, or are you not at 18 weeks yet?”

“Sorry, what?” He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he’d missed whatever Swan had said.

“Do you want to sing to her?”

“Would you be all right with that?”

She laughed. “Um,  _very._  Besides, isn’t that the exact reason I’m pregnant?”

“Well, I’d like to think it would have happened anyway, regardless. But fair enough.”

“C’mere.”

He stood from the computer desk and headed to the couch; Swan had been lying down with her feet up, but she swung them around and sat up a bit. “All right, go for it, Daddy.” She patted the space next to her.

He sat beside her and then leaned forward. She wasn’t showing very much, but enough that the townsfolk were catching on. Emma had always been extremely slim, and so the way her stomach was beginning to protrude was an easy giveaway that she was either pregnant, or she was overindulging significantly and gaining weight in very strangely specific places.

His favorite thing about her stomach, what she called her “baby bump,” was that this was their child. Right here, taking up space, growing and becoming a child.

“Go for it,” Emma encouraged.

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Hello, my love. This is your papa.” Bloody hell, he was going to be a father. Neither Bae nor Henry could have ever prepared him for this. “Your momma asked me to sing to you.” He looked up at said momma. “Are you sure about this?”

“She’s gotta learn about revenge sometime,” she joked.

Perhaps. But he balked at the idea that the first song he would sing to his daughter would be one of anger and sadness. He had a better idea.

 _“Tomorrow is uncertain,”_  he sang.  _“Who knows what it will bring?”_

He looked up to find Emma staring down at him in wonder, and although he knew her emotions were a bit out of control (he’d done a lot of reading about  _hormones)_ , he was still surprised to see that she had tears in her eyes.

 _“But one thing is for sure, love,”_  she continued.  _“With you, I have everything.”_

He grinned and turned back to her stomach, and they sang together.

_“And happily ever after is the way these stories go …”_


	9. Flufflet 7: Halloween whoops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flufflet #7 for lifeinahole - Henry pranks Killian for Halloween (featuring CS baby--written prior to season 7)

It had been Henry’s fault.

Thanks to him, Emma had gotten addicted playing video games during her pregnancy, and her favorite had been Portal. So when Halloween rolled around, and the invitation to Regina’s costume-mandatory party came in the mail, she excitedly began putting together her Chel costume.

It had required Henry’s replica portal gun, which she’d gotten him for his birthday after he’d begged for one. So when she went upstairs to ask him if she could borrow it, she had to explain why, and he got really excited.

“We should come up with a theme!” he’d said.

“What, video game characters? But you were Link last year.”

“No, not video game characters. Potatoes.”

“Potatoes?” The hell?

“Yeah, you’re doing Portal 2 for your costume, right?” She’d nodded. “So, stick a potato on the portal gun!”

“Well, what are you going to be?” she’d asked. “And what’s Killian gonna do?”

“I’ll help him.”

“Kid, you remember what happened [last time](http://phiralovesloki.tumblr.com/post/132307623709/wardrobe-malfunction-a-cs-halloween-ficlet) you helped Killian dress up for Halloween.” There had been a misinterpretation the one and only time Killian had ever attempted to dress up for the holiday. He’d gone with the other meaning of “dress up,” which had resulted in him wearing a three piece suit.

And Henry had been the one to help him; he’d insisted up and down that it had totally been a mistake, but Emma didn’t buy it. It had been pretty embarrassing, too, although Henry didn’t know that Emma had been under the impression that Killian was planning to dress up as Han Solo, so she’d shown up in the gold Leia bikini under a trench coat.

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen this time, I promise.”

“Good, because he was embarrassed about that, and you know how much he hates messing up when it comes to fitting in here.”

“I  _said_  I promise.”

She shouldn’t have believed him.

On the afternoon of the party, she was all set to go. She had on her costume, complete with homemade long-fall boots (okay, so she used a tiny bit of magic to make those). Hazel had on her cute little Space Core helmet, which August helped make. She was in the process of trying to keep the potato from falling off the portal gun when Henry scampered down the stairs in his Samwise Gamgee costume.

“Wow, Mom, you look great!”

“Thanks, kid. Have you been practicing your potato rant?”

“‘Boil ‘em, mash ‘em, stick ‘em in a stew,’“ he said proudly. He went up to Hazel and gave her a big kiss. “Do you wanna go to space?” he asked. “Gonna go to space? Space?”

“Aiming for that to be her first word?”

He laughed. “Nah.”

“Where’s Killian?”

“He’s in the garage.”

“Why?”

“He won’t be able to walk down the stairs in his costume, so I’m gonna help him get it on there.”

“The hell is he dressing up as?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Henry said, slightly evilly, before scampering out the door. Uh-oh.

But Hazel was starting to fuss. She gave up on the potato for the time being, pulled off the Space Core helmet, and brought Hazel over to the couch. She was still in the middle of breastfeeding when she heard a bit of a commotion outside. Through the door, she could hear Henry almost coaxing Killian along, probably trying to help him up the front steps.

And then the door opened, and Killian awkwardly stepped through.

Emma burst out laughing, and his face immediately went dark. “I  _knew_  it,” he said angrily. “I  _knew_ this was another one of his pranks. Bloody hell, Emma, tell me it’s not so bad.”

“Oh my god,” she said. She had to calm down; she was laughing so hard, Hazel was having trouble latching. “Oh god, there’s an episode of Friends we haven’t gotten to yet, and that’s Ross’ costume.”

“No.” Ross was his least favorite character. “Please tell me you’re lying.”

“And he shows up at a Halloween party wearing that, and it’s like … this big potato pun–you wouldn’t get it.” She was ruining her eyeliner from laughing so hard. “Henry, get in here!”

“He’s already gone,” he said miserably. “He said he’d meet us at Regina’s.”

“I have an idea,” she said. “I just need to put Hazel down so I can get you out of that abomination.”

When they arrived at Regina’s, Henry was visibly disappointed that they’d found a way out of his prank, and then mildly confused. “I don’t get it,” he said, staring at Killian, whose costume now consisted of a beret, an apron, and a the little egg frying pan Zelena had gotten them as a housewarming gift back in the day (it was small enough to fit into the pocket of the apron, so Killian could free up his hand when he needed to).

“I’m a French fry,” Killian said proudly. “And  _you_  should beware.”

“Why’s that?”

Killian leaned in and whispered, almost too quietly for Emma to overhear: “I’ve been known to be rather single-minded about getting _revenge.”_


	10. Flufflet 8: Cooking class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flufflet #8 for lifeinahole - Emma and Killian learn how to cook

“I want to learn how to cook,” Swan said, staring at her plate.

Killian frowned. “You  _can_  cook, as evidenced by the meal in front of us.” Admittedly, it was a simple meal; baked chicken breasts and steamed vegetables. But there was certainly nothing wrong with it.

“Not like that,” she said sadly. “Just … like, for my parents’ potluck this weekend, you  _know_  my mom’s gonna make something delicious, and Regina will bring her lasagna. Even Belle and Zelena will bring something great, and they didn’t even used to cook in the Enchanted Forest and Oz or whatever.”

Privately, he thought that Belle and Zelena’s culinary skills were serviceable at best, but he understood. When Emma was tasked with bringing food to an event, she usually either volunteered to bring wine, or she ran to the market for pre-made desserts.

“You know it doesn’t upset me,” he said slowly. “And my own skill in the kitchen isn’t exactly anything to boast about. But if it bothers you, perhaps we should both learn together.”

“You’d want to?” He nodded. “Okay, well … I guess I’ll look into it.”

* * *

Killian had imagined that the most difficult part of learning to cook would be actually  _learning_  to cook. Instead, it took time to figure out the right  _way_  to learn.

Googles provided recipes and so-called foolproof methods, but everything seemed to end a little bit disastrously. Food burned, sauces did not come together, and nothing tasted any better than what they already knew how to make.

Next, they resorted to physical recipe books, which, being old-fashioned, he assumed would be much better than whatever the computer could provide. But if anything, the books were less helpful, and for the first time since encountering a computer, Killian had to admit there were significant benefits to being able to see images and watch recordings.

And actual in-person classes might have been helpful, but after just one down in Augusta, Swan ruled them out completely. He had no qualms with the decision; the instructor had been rude and insensitive (almost certainly unintentionally, but rude and insensitive nonetheless) about Killian’s disability, and it had ruined the entire experience. Neither he nor Emma could concentrate on or retain any of the lesson, and while he would do anything Emma asked of him, he was relieved that she had no desire to put him through such a humiliating experience again.

“I give up,” Emma said the next evening. She was staring at all the cookware and utensils she’d purchased to facilitate the process. “This was a huge waste of time and money.”

He rubbed her shoulder affectionately. “My love, I will not see you defeated in this way.” She snorted skeptically. “I mean it. You’re the Savior, Swan. You’ve never failed before, and you certainly won’t now.”

“What else is left to try, though? I’ve checked every website I can find about learning how to cook, and I am  _not_  trying a class again. Not after that.”

“Why don’t we take a break from this?” he suggested. “I’ll see what I can suss out, and we’ll try again then.”

She sighed. “Yeah, okay.”

* * *

He’d had to admit that he’d gone to Snow for help, but Emma hadn’t been too upset when he’d passed on the suggestion. In fact, she’d been intrigued and immediately went to the computer to check the Google.

Two weeks later, a box arrived on their front step. Inside were all the ingredients for three meals for the two of them to try, and detailed instructions.

Emma was still nervous, and truth be told, so was he. This didn’t feel much easier than simply finding recipes on Google, and since there was no instructor to guide them, it didn’t seem as though it would be as effective as an in-person lesson. But Swan had done a little research before signing up for the service, and it seemed as though it would be worth a try.

They picked the easiest-looking recipe, set up all the ingredients and equipment, pre-heated the oven, and took a deep breath.

The kitchen was a mess by the time they were done, there were some steps Swan had to take over because they required two hands, and they got in each other’s way more than once, but within an hour, they were sitting at the table to try their meal. It didn’t look nearly as beautiful as the image on the instructions did, but it smelled appetizing.

“Here goes,” Swan said anxiously before taking a bite. He watched as she did, and her eyes widened in surprise. “This is actually  _good,”_  she said, mouth still full.

He took a bite of his own serving. It  _was_  good. They’d both questioned the seemingly high number of times the recipe instructed them to season with salt and pepper, but now he understood why so many of their attempted meals were so bland. And the clear instructions meant that the meat was cooked perfectly–not underdone or burnt–and the sauce had come together perfectly.

He would have been embarrassed at how quickly they polished off the meal, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the brilliant smile on his wife’s face.

* * *

The other two dishes went much the same way. Without needing to talk about it, Emma set up delivery every other week, for when they didn’t have Henry.

It was enjoyable to work together to make each meal, but as they mastered more and more skills, the dynamic changed a bit. Some nights, Emma would insist on cooking on her own, and it was worth it to see how excited she was that  _she_  was making such a delicious meal without assistance. And other nights, he would shoo her out of the kitchen. He’d always been extremely adaptable, and before long, there was not a single step that slowed him down, even with one hand and a hook.

He  _almost_  wanted to go back to Augusta and embarrass the cooking instructor, but to do so, he’d have to pay for the privilege. No thank you.

But then life picked up a bit, and they found themselves wanting to return to recipes they’d tried before instead of new ones. And so they went down deliveries once a month, before canceling altogether.

But the skills remained. They had all the recipes from the meal delivery service, but now they each felt confident enough to try recipes from the books they’d purchased months earlier. And now those recipes were  _easy._  As were the Google recipes.

They’d done it.

* * *

In November, they insisted on hosting the seasonal holiday, much to everyone’s surprise. When everyone asked what they could bring, he and Emma happily assigned desserts and alcoholic beverages, and politely declined any offers of appetizers or side dishes or assistance with the main course.

As the meal progressed and the effusive compliments poured in, Killian simply looked at Emma and smiled. And at the end of the night, once the dishes had been washed, the leftovers stored in the icebox, and the guests departed, he took her in his arms. “I told you.”

“Told me what?” she asked.

“You’ve never failed before,” he reminded her. “And you certainly haven’t now.”


End file.
